Wednesday, June 17, 2015

I get out of my car and walk down the driveway to the mailbox. As I'm glancing through the usual pile of bills & junk there, I hear the door open behind me and Frank comes out talking. It's his usual random word salad about video games until he sees me at the box.

Frank: "Those 2 video games I ordered from Amazon came in today's mail. I've been inside playing them."

Dr. Grumpy: "That's good... They were in today's mail?"

Frank: "Yeah, I checked when I get home. I've been waiting for them."

Dr. Grumpy: "Then why didn't you bring in the rest of the mail when you did that?"

Monday, June 15, 2015

Honestly, if you're typing such horseshit as a standard part of every note, you're full of crap. Especially since I've been watching you round on this floor for the past hour. You're by yourself. And most of the time you're only putting 1 foot in a patient's room, anyway.

How much extra are you charging the insurance for writing that (or, more likely, cut & paste) in your note?

Thursday, June 11, 2015

As part of a mid-life crisis a few years back, Dr. Pissy bought a Porsche. This is not an uncommon event in males. His wife wasn't exactly thrilled about it (also not uncommon).

About a year later, she went out of town for 2 weeks to visit family. Pissy stayed here.

And did something his wife would never have allowed: entered himself in a local Porsche club's monthly race at the Grumpyville Speedway. He'd always wanted to do that, and he figured that, like a wild teenager, this was the best weekend to do it.

He had a lot of fun until the 4th lap of the 3rd race... when he blew up the engine to the tune of several thousand dollars. The car was towed off to DeutschenSprockets repair shop.

Then the fun began. Like Joel Goodson, Pissy had to have the Porsche working again before the authorities returned home. So each office day involved him calling the repair place - several times - to frantically check on how things were going. He paid extra to have the work expedited over other owners. At one point, when a certain part would take 3 days to have shipped, he called the distributor himself to arrange (and pay more for) overnight delivery.

He got the car back a few hours before her flight landed, and even took it to pick her up from the airport. On the way home they ordered take-out, and he went into the restaurant to get their order.

She looked for her sunglasses in the glove compartment, and found the repair bill.

Welcome to my whining!

This blog is entirely for entertainment purposes. All posts about patients may be fictional, or be my experience, or were submitted by a reader, or any combination of the above. Factual statements may or may not be accurate.

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